Page 47 of Overdrive (Speed Demons #1)

He slid a little more than the tip in this time. I moaned loudly and his hand shot up to slap over my mouth. I huffed against his palm, inhaling the purely masculine scent of his skin. Putain.

"Shhh, baby," he growled as he leaned down, his face so close now I could feel the warmth from his lips.

"You wanna let the whole floor hear how wet you are for me?

" I shook my head, and he clamped down harder.

My thighs trembled around his hips. He pulled the toy out again, and I nearly sobbed.

"You don't get to come yet. Not until I've had my fill. "

His hand lifted and he kissed me hard. All tongue and teeth nipping at my lips, drinking from me.

It felt urgent and intense, as if he had been holding this back for years instead of months, and finally snapped.

The toy slid in further with a slick glide that made my pussy pulse around it, and a soft groan tore from my throat.

He swallowed it and didn't stop kissing me, just rocked the toy inside me, his hips thrusting toward mine with every pump of the toy. It was slow at first, then faster.

I was so fucking gone, so lost in the alcohol and the desire and all the sensations. My nails bit into my palms through the bedding I clutched and my blood roared in my ears.

"We’ll have to teach you to be more quiet, love," he muttered against my mouth. "You want me to stop kissing you?"

I shook under him. I couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't function. I was unraveling in his arms and he was as drunk on that as he was the drinks he'd had tonight.

Callum pulled back just enough to look down at me—hair falling in his eyes, chest rising like he'd been sprinting, cheeks flushed and mouth swollen.

He looked so fucking sexy, like sin incarnate, and he was all mine.

Then he sat back, grabbed my hip, and flipped me in one swift, rough motion.

I landed on my hands and knees, robe tangled around my waist, the toy slipped halfway out, and I let out a disappointed cry.

" Callum— "

He groaned behind me. "Fuck, I wish you could see yourself like this.

" He pushed the toy in deeper this time.

It was angled and perfect, and I wriggled my hips to feel more of it.

He shifted behind me, pulling the toy almost completely out.

The moment he repositioned behind me, I felt his palm flatten over it, fingers pressing down on the base so when he pushed it in, his fingers followed.

"Oh my God," I choked out, trembling everywhere, my entire body on fire and aching for release.

"Jesus. Do you feel that? Every time I press it in, I feel you twitch around me." He rocked his hand forward, and the pressure had me seeing stars. His fingers pushed the toy in deeper.

I moaned loudly and shamelessly, not caring who fucking heard. I needed this. I'd earned this.

Then he turned the vibrator on. It buzzed inside me, a low, thrumming pulse that made my arms collapse. I dropped down onto my elbows, burying my face in the pillows, my hips still arched and open for him.

"You're fucking soaking me, Auri." He pushed again, and I felt the stretch, felt myself dripping down my inner thighs.

The toy moved in perfect rhythm with his hand, stretching and vibrating as he fucked it deeper with every press.

His hips started rocking with mine, his cock pressing against my ass through his pants.

We were in sync, not even fucking, but we couldn't stop ourselves.

It was hot and so goddamn erotic. We were both gasping now, moaning together, as if the air between us was too heavy to breathe.

My hands clutched the sheets when my vision blackened at the edges, my body climbing higher with every movement. "I can't—fuck—I can't take it?—"

"Yes, you fucking can," he panted, his chest covering my back as he leaned over me, not slowing his movements. "You can and you will. Come for me, love. Make a mess. I want to feel it."

His hand moved faster, fingers over the toy and touching me in all the right ways.

It sent me spiraling. I tightened and felt my pussy lock down around the vibration and pressure and him.

Then I shattered, my eyes rolling back in my head.

It was brutal, beautiful, and overwhelming.

Wave after wave of pleasure rippled through me, thighs trembling and walls pulsing so hard I nearly screamed.

He bit down on my shoulder through the robe as he groaned, and the pain was sharp and welcoming.

It sent another wave of ecstasy washing over me, shuttering through me violently and uncontrollably.

"I feel you, baby," he breathed, sounding just as wrecked as I felt.

His accent sounded a little thicker as he slowly pumped in and out of me.

"God, I feel you fucking coming for me. You've been holding it in for too fucking long, love.

" I collapsed further into the bed, twitching and dazed.

His hand was still between my thighs and holding the toy inside me.

He leaned down, lips brushing the back of my neck as he slid it out and shut it off.

"You'll never touch this toy again without thinking of me. "

I sighed into the pillows. He was right. That was my favorite toy, too, and now I'd only ever be able to think of this. Evil bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing.

He kissed the spot he'd bitten, gentle and reverent now. Then he growled against my ear, sounding utterly gone, "You're mine."

Damn him.

He couldn't say shit like that to me.

Callum rolled me back over, caging me in with his arms and flashing me a wicked grin.

My stomach flipped, and then he moved to go down on me, biting the insides of my thighs, hands gripping my hips in a bruising hold.

I let him lick me once—slow, hot, perfect—but I was too desperate, so I tugged on his hair to bring him back up to me.

The look of confusion on his face almost made me forgive him for all the shit he’d pulled tonight.

“I just want you,” I breathed, answering his unasked question. Turning on my stomach, I reached for the nightstand drawer to grab a condom.

Because yeah, of course I was prepared.

He reached behind his back and grabbed a fistful of his shirt to pull it over his head with one arm, and I gawked.

Why in the hell was that so hot? The real-life version of that sweaty selfie I almost got off to didn’t hold a fucking candle to this.

Nothing did his abs justice, or that trail of hair disappearing into his waistband.

I wanted to run my tongue over it.

Callum shoved his pants down in one smooth motion, and I stopped breathing. His legs were toned and muscular, and the outline of his hard cock was large and intimidating. His leg hem of his briefs had ridden up, and holy fuck— he has a tattoo.

"What the fuck is that," I whispered, eyes locking on the ink at the top of his right thigh. It was black text, high and hidden, inches below where his hip met his thigh.

It was stupidly sexy. It was slutty. And it was so him.

"Do all world champions have thirst trap tattoos on their thighs, or is that just you?" I muttered, already feeling heat flood my cheeks and between my legs. My fingers curled around the foil of the condom packet.

He smirked. "You like it?"

"I hate how much I like it. What does it say?"

He shifted back to sit on his ankles. "Get on your knees and find out."

My pussy clenched. I swallowed and scrambled to my knees, ducking my head to read it. I blinked, not quite believing I was reading French inked permanently on his skin.

elle saura

I knew what it meant. She'll know.

But somehow, I didn't. Not really, not like that.

I grabbed his thighs, digging my nails into his flesh. It detonated something inside me. My arousal leaked down my thighs. My native language was carved into his skin, and it was in such a private, intimate spot. Somewhere you'd only see if he let you get this close.

"What does it mean?" I asked quietly anyway, like if I spoke too loud, I'd scare the moment away.

"She'll know."

Yeah, we both know I know the direct translation.

"And if she doesn't?" She being me.

He looked at me— really looked—and then said the kind of thing you feel in your fucking marrow. "Then it wasn't for her."

It hit me then. He wasn't talking about words, or translations. It was a brand. A promise. A silent fucking contract waiting for the woman meant to claim it .

And in that moment, God help me, I wanted it to be for me.

“I guess I’m her for tonight,” I whispered.

The words slipped out before I could stop them—quiet, fragile, and a little terrifying but true.

I was too intoxicated to care. My fingers brushed over the tattoo.

All I could think was how much I wanted my mouth on that ink, to bite the edge of it, to know him in a way no one else did.

I leaned in and nipped his flesh, tasting his skin, and he hissed.

I clawed at his thighs as I ran my tongue over the bite, then slowly pulled back.

“Of course you’d have something poetic and romantic,” I muttered, eyes dragging over his nearly naked, gorgeous body, and the thick, hard outline of his cock.

Jesus, would he even fit ? I'd spent plenty of time staring at that workout selfie and the outline of it flaccid, but this…

I feared my vagina would not recover. “You dramatic little slut.”

His hand shot out—fast, rough, veiny as fuck—and caught my jaw. A moan slipped out of me, soft and involuntary. God. Why did that turn me on so much?

"Did you just call me a slut?” It was pure gravel and sex.

I grinned up at him, wicked and breathless, even as his grip tightened. His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth. “If the thigh tattoo fits…”

His hold tightened. My thighs clenched. Our chests brushed with every sharp inhale, heat sparking off our skin like live wires. The tension in the room was thick enough a knife could cut it.